[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Her attendant made a small sound. Beruthiel's attention fell on her with all the confusion and anger she was struggling to contain. "Are you still here? Out with you!" She barked. The servants must not see her react. Her calm must be maintained. Habeth nodded her head slowly, but lingered. The queen's brows drew together as she flapped her hand at the woman. Why couldn't she go? Beruthiel dropped her eyes back into her lap.

The sound of the door closing echoed through the austere sitting room. The queen rose slowly from her chair. For once, all her cats were absent from her room and there was nobody around to see her cry. A few tears slithered out of her eyes, so bloodshot as they stared back at her from the silver framed mirror hanging above her fireplace. The queen touched her face gently with the fingers of her right hand. Her cheeks, always pale, were no longer those of the beautiful girl who'd come to Gondor as the bride of the Lord of Coasts. She rubbed the tears from her eyes quickly. Who was this boy that she should cry over him. His coming made not one bit of difference to her life. Not one. She was still childless. Still alone. Nothing would change that... ever.

Snatching a small black glass globe from its place on the mantel she flung it against the wall and watched it shatter into slivers on the stone floor. Disturbed by the sound, a lithe black form crept around the corner, her tail tip twitching nervously. Lome. Beruthiel watched her sniff around the shards of glass, stepping carefully in between them, setting the hollow pieces tinkling with her tail.

Crossing the room quickly she picked the cat up and carried it with her into the bedroom. Flinging herself on the bed she pulled the heavy curtains closed and clutched the black form close. What was happening? This boy, this child, this brat... he was taking something from her that she never even had. "My children would have been kings..." she whispered to the cat in her arms. Lome curled more tightly in her embrace, her pointed chin resting on her tail. But who dared kill the heir to a kingdom... Beruthiel's shoulders shook with rage.

If only I could have done it. Better no king at all than that spoiled brat. I wish they had killed him.

Her eyes snapped open in the semi-dark of her curtained bed. Lome tensed against her body. Somebody had tried to kill him. They had nearly succeeded. Beruthiel felt her breath catch in her throat as the news began to finally sink in. How easy life would be without him. Without that persistent reminder of her failure. Without hearing his voice and seeing his eager face across the dinner table.

She clutched Lome to her chest, rocking her back and forth until the cat began to struggle. Straightening her spine, Beruthiel released the indignant cat, watching her stalk across the pillow, her tail held high as she settled on the pillow and licked her rumpled fur back into place. This was ridiculous, the queen chided herself. Murder was not an option she could take. All she had was dignity, and when that failed her there was always death. She glanced across the room toward her dresser where she kept a tiny silver dagger... there would always be death.

[ October 17, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ]